


Feels Like Drowning

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Dean is good at comforting him, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Richard is scared of water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a <a href="http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4307.html?thread=8312275#t8312275">prompt</a> on kinkmeme.</p><p>Richard is terrified of water, and panics whilst filming the barrel scene. After he runs off to his trailer, Dean comes to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Oh great. I did another RPF. I know this is probably all sorts of wrong, but frankly I've gone past caring now.
> 
> Obviously I have nothing to do with the cast of the Hobbit, and I completely made all of this up.

When you’re young, you always assume that adults aren’t scared of anything. You hope that one day you’ll grow out of your childish fears, when you get bigger and stronger and wiser. Richard licks his lips and stares down at the river in front of him. Well, he thinks to himself; he is now officially into his forties, and his lifelong phobia still hasn’t left, so he can only assume that the notion that adults are fearless is absolute bullshit.

  
Peter slaps him on the back and gives his shoulder a light squeeze, and suddenly everything comes crashing back to him. He’s not stood beside a river – he’s in a studio next to what can only be described as an artificial whirlpool, with about 20 or more people on hand to help them in and out of their barrels. Quite frankly, he’s being ridiculous. Richard gives himself a mental shake and offers Peter a wan smile, which seems good enough for the director. Peter wanders off and Richard eyes the river again.

  
But then somehow, he’s gone from staring warily at the stretch of water in front of him to being chivvied inside one of the small, wooden barrels and suddenly he can’t breathe quite right. Richard tries to tell someone that he doesn’t think he can do this, not yet, tries to beg for a few moments preparation, but the words stick in his throat and all he lets out is a slight choking noise. Of course, nobody pays attention; they just want to get started as quick as possible. He looks up at his fellow cast members. They seem happy enough, laughing over how it takes six people to help Stephen Hunter get into his barrel. Dean catches his eye from across the crowd and gives him a soft smile. It takes Richard a while to remember how the muscles in his face work, and he’s only able to shoot a half grin, half grimace back at him.

  
And then all too soon he’s in a barrel, bobbing precariously in the water. Richard grabs the sides tight enough for his knuckles to turn white and tries a deep breathing technique that somebody taught him back on _Spooks_. He’s sure he’ll be fine once they get going, and it’s not like anything is going to happen to him, but there’s still that horrible rising feeling of panic in his chest. It’s like a small creature, sitting heavy behind his breastbone and making it difficult for him to breathe normally. Richard becomes aware of someone watching him, so forces himself to look composed and get into character ( _you’re a fucking actor, Armitage, don’t be so bloody childish_ ).

  
Filming goes without a hitch, for the most part. They get pushed along the rapids at a slightly startling speed, but Richard remains calm as he tries to channel his inner Dwarf King. However, what he isn’t counting on is the amount of water that fills up his barrel. It’s uncomfortable, but not enough to worry him – at least until he rounds a corner and the barrel sinks into the river.

  
The added weight of the water, plus a 6’2” man laden down in a heavy costume is enough to make the barrel dip wildly. Richard is barely able to regain his balance when suddenly his mouth is full of water and he has to close his eyes against the spray that splashes up the sides of the container. And he panics. He lashes out with his boot, but that only serves to make the barrel swing violently in the other direction. The water keeps sloshing in and Richard is soon completely soaked through. He still can’t see, still has his eyes closed as another waves slaps him across the face. But this time, as he tries to draw in a ragged breath, he manages to swallow a mouthful of water and then, _then_ he really fucking panics because he can’t breathe anymore, he can’t breathe and he can’t see and he’s choking and it’s like being water-boarded but without the certain knowledge that he’s going to live, and oh shit he could actually _die_ here-

  
But then the barrel comes to an abrupt halt and there are hands under his armpits as he gets bodily removed from the wooden container. Richard stumbles across the ground and lands on his hands and knees, choking coughs wracking his entire body. It’s only when he’s able to breathe again that he’s aware of a hand banging him on the back.

  
“Jesus Christ, Rich, are you okay?”

  
Peter is stood over him, looking very worried, his hand now grasping his shoulder. Richard nods, his chest heaving.

  
“I’m fine, I’m okay. It’s just-” he has to break off as he coughs up more water. Once he’s done he sits back on his knees and wipes a shaking hand over his mouth. “I just swallowed some water the wrong way, that’s all. I’m fine.”

  
Peter doesn’t look convinced, but he lets go of his shoulder all the same. Richard looks over to the other dwarves; they’re being helped out of their own barrels and they all keep throwing concerned glances his way. He gets to his feet (which requires no small amount of effort, as it feels like his legs are made of jelly) and offers them a shaky smile. Dean, who is one of the first out of the barrels, takes a step towards him as if to say something. Then he stops and seems to reconsider it, before chewing worriedly on his lip.

  
Peter claps his hands together. “Alright then, if everything’s ok we’ll just do a quick retake.”

  
“No!” It takes Richard a second to realise he’s actually shouted that out loud. And now everyone is staring at him. He clears his throat, which still feels sore from retching up all the water he’d swallowed, and waves his hand in the general direction of outside.

  
“Actually, do you mind if we break for a bit? I really need a drink, I’ll just go grab something from my trailer…” he cuts himself off, and before anyone can offer one the bottles of water dotted around the studio, Richard practically runs from the set.

  
Peter is all of a sudden one dwarf down, and it just so happens to be the most important dwarf. There really isn’t much point in continuing filming without Richard, so he exhales and runs a hand over his forehead. “Ok, take five, everyone.”

  
The cast and crew begin milling about, talking in hushed, concerned voices. All except for Dean, who’s staring at the large studio doors that Richard had slipped out of with a slight frown on his face. He places his hand on the arm of whoever is closest to him (Nancy from make-up, who is trying in vain to do some last minute touching up on his face) and nods towards the doors.

  
“Listen, I’m going to go check on him. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  
Now Peter has lost two dwarves. He sits down on his chair and lets out a long suffering sigh.

  
Dean runs towards where the mobile homes are situated as fast as his costume will allow him. He reaches Richard’s trailer, but stops outside the door when he hears something coming from inside. With both hands placed on the metal, Dean presses his ear against the door and listens. The sound makes his heart break. Richard Armitage, 40 years old and over 6 foot tall, is crying. Actually, he’s not crying, because Dean’s an actor and he _knows_ crying – Richard is properly sobbing and he sounds angry and fucking terrified. So Dean pushes the door open.

  
“Oh, Richard.”

  
That’s all he can whisper when he sees the man curled up on the floor. He’s pushed up against the cupboards in the small kitchenette, face pressed into his knees which he’s drawn up to his chest. His entire body shakes as he sobs breathlessly, and he looks so young and broken that it makes Dean want to cry too. Dean sinks to his knees in front of Richard and places a hand on his head.

  
“Hey. Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe now, it’s okay,” Dean murmurs as he runs his fingers through the Thorin wig. Richard can’t even feel it, not properly, but it’s still reassuring and eventually he raises his head. His face is blotchy and he can’t seem to get his breath back. Dean gives him a sad smile and caresses his fingers over his cheek.

  
“There you are.”

  
He lowers his hand to grab onto where Richard’s shoulder meets his neck, and places his other hand on Richard’s bicep.

  
“Now, I want you to take a deep breath for me, ok? Nice and slow.” Dean breathes with him, watches as Richard draws in air like it’s in danger of running out. His chest hitches again and he lets out another choked sob, but this time he sounds almost frustrated with himself. Dean rubs the back of his neck in what he hopes is a soothing way, and tries to make him look him in the eye. “That’s it, buddy, you’re getting there. Try again, one more deep breath.”

  
Richard closes his eyes and breathes in deeply through his nose, and this time it comes a lot easier. They sit there for a couple of minutes, breathing in unison, until finally Richard opens his eyes again. He wipes at his nose and gives Dean an awkward smile.

  
“Thank you. I’m sorry about this. It’s the water, it just…”

  
“No, don’t even worry about it,” Dean replies, his voice soft. He’s let go of whatever purchase he has on Richard’s body, and is now resting against the older man’s knees. He shrugs. “I had a friend, back when I was about 14 or so. He was absolutely petrified of water; if we went down to the beach, he’d be the one looking after the towels.”

  
Richard lets out a noise that sounds like a cross between a snort of laughter and a hiccup. Dean takes it as a sign to continue anyway. “One day we were at someone’s house, and they had a swimming pool, so we decided to go for dip. Somebody thought it would be funny to push this guy in. He ended up having a full-on panic attack in the pool. We had to fish him out and calm him down; I thought he was going to drown. It was terrifying.”

  
Richard shivers, possibly out of empathy, probably because he’s still in his wet Thorin costume. Which reminds him – Peter is waiting for them back on set. Dean pushes the dark, damp tendrils of hair out of Richard’s eyes and sighs.

  
“Ready to go back?”

  
“Not really.” Richard smiles, but it’s dark and doesn’t meet his eyes. He looks like he’d be willing to do anything but go back to filming that scene, and Dean can’t help but agree with him. He gives Richard’s wrist a light squeeze and nods.

  
“Leave it to me.”

  
Richard looks up, and his eyes are so desperate and scared that it almost breaks Dean’s heart all over again. A sudden rush of affection take over him and he stretches up, places his hands either side of Richard’s face, and kisses him on the forehead. Then Dean sits back again and smiles.

  
“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll sort it out with Peter and the others, then we’ll de-dwarf you and get you warmed up. Sound good?”

  
Richard hums appreciatively, and this time his smile lights up his eyes. Then as Dean goes to stand up, he catches him by the wrist, forcing him to look down again. “Thank you, Dean. Really.”

  
Dean chuckles and interlaces their fingers together. “Any time.”


End file.
